In Strictest Confidence
by theblondeknight45
Summary: As the chief medical officer of Overwatch, Mercy tends to all the physical and mental needs of all Overwatch agents. As a result she becomes a sort of older sister to nearly everyone...and has come upon more than a few secrets, dirty and otherwise. These are the things told to her in strictest confidence. Mercy-centric one-shot library. Ft. McCree, Winston, Soldier, and many more.
1. Midnight Writer

**Welcome to my collection of Mercy short stories and one-shots. I intend for this to spread across many genres and play with several ideas I have, but I admit this first one was kind of random...just came to me on the walk home today. All that said, I'm kinda bad at updating and keeping on, just because I work on so much other fan fiction and original work in between my social and personal time. And speaking of personal time, a lot of it is being dominated by Overwatch right now, lol. We'll call that research though. ;)**

 **Hope you enjoy Chapter 1 of In Strictest Confidence. I should mention things may get slightly/somewhat OOC, especially in regards to the Overwatch roster and timeline. To be honest, the story is kind of a mess, I don't know how closely I can and want to follow it, ha ha. And while you're here, make sure to SHOW how much you APPRECIATE the Mercy players on your team! (And other supports too). It ain't always easy, but it is always done for the greater good...or maybe they just love Mercy like I do. Please review!**

* * *

The moon outside was already coming to its climax, perched upon a bed of stars that shone weakly in comparison. Mercy's window gave her a perfect view, overlooking a cliffside at Gibraltar. But at the moment, her eyes were focused on her computer screen, and when she really started needing it, the cup of coffee beside her.

The recent battle had brought great success, and many casualties with it. At the end of the day, she lost only two. Of the seventy-three other injured, nearly three-quarters had already been released onto active duty again. Now she had to bear the thoughts and memories of those two young men - boys really - as she filed all the paperwork, issued orders and itineraries for the long-term patients and assistants, and wrote up her staff report to Jack, naturally due in just a few hours. God she was tired...but she knew sleep wasn't what she needed now.

So she settled for another swig of the barely warm coffee, finishing it off. She hesitated to get another cup, but she knew she would be at least another hour at the computer. It was a long walk to the kitchens, so she decided to go at once.

Her office was at the top of the medical tower, situated above the break room and offices of her chief assistants, the OR, the pharmacy, and the Post-op, plus the triage center at the base of it all. It was lovely walk down when she was able to do it undisturbed. She couldn't decide, even after all this time, whether she took more joy in the beauty of the moon overhead, the cool night air when she passed by an open window, or the faint, happy sounds of sleeping made by those under her care. She supposed that altogether it made a wonderfully relaxing trip.

Where her domain ended, the central compound was situated. Here the training facility was entrenched into the rock, complete with firing range, ammo depot, martial combat training room, several obstacle courses, and more. The orbital center was on the other side of the large rock called Gibraltar, and other than that, it was just the command center, the barracks, and the mess hall and kitchens.

A few of the late night owls were training even now, mostly in the obstacle course. Out of habit, which itself stemmed from something she knew was closest described as prevailing altruism, she stopped on the way and checked the medkit in the gate office. It was up to date, as she knew it would be. So she moved on.

There was a sort of music in the air, she noticed, as she walked on, and it was coming from the obstacle course, where the men and at least one woman were training to the ends of their own betterment. Without the prevailing sense of violence and hatred, the pursuit of better health and skill was a beautiful thing, much like the lovely night around it. A song of sweat, a rhythm of harmony between mind and body which made both stronger. It was a chance to bond with your friends and yourself. If only warfare was this simplistic in application. But war was not beautiful, war was hell, or if one dared say, worse so, because all suffered from war, the just and the unjust.

She chewed on those thoughts a little longer as passed the command compound, noticing that Jack's lights were on. Like herself, he worked late nights, often with Gabriel and their trusted officers. Especially now, when tensions were running high, it worried her. They were always close, but the bad blood between each other was almost as bad as that between the organization and its enemies. The pressure from the UN wasn't helping anything.

But the rumbling in her stomach reminded her of her purpose in this stroll, and tacked on an extra objective: Complement the coffee with something to hold her over to breakfast. And so he hurried onwards, glancing back in the hopes of seeing Jack or Gabriel through the windows, but there was only light. The music of training was well behind her.

By the time she was entering the mess hall, there were only a few lights on, and she found only one other person inside. He was too engrossed in the book in his hands to notice her, but she decided to join him, as he had a perfectly untouched plate of muffins beside him.

"Enjoying the book, Jesse?" She asked with a devious smile as McCree's face jumped from behind the book, wary, then instantly relieved.

"In fact I am," He replied, offering her the plate first and setting it down.

"Who wrote it?" She asked, taking a blueberry muffin from the top of the pile.

"I did. What's finished of it."

"Really?"

"Got the idea 'bout a year ago...wrote down bits and pieces here and there, and behold, a half-finished western."

"Are you going to publish? What's it about?" She asked between bites.

"An outlaw and a dame, brought together by mutual troubles...struggling with the world and the people around them….maybe their feelings for each other…"

"Oh?"

"Nothing dirty, of course. I'm not that kind of man."

"I know," She giggled.

"Well, doesn't matter much. Been stuck on this part for days now. Can't seem to fit anything into the next sentence."

"Read to me."

He mulled it over for a second and smiled, taking a bite from his own muffin and opening the book back up again.

"The heat of high noon was sweltering. The pair looked in each others eyes from behind the rocks as the guns around them fired without stop. He wanted to say something, but the sound was so overbearing as it bounced around the earth with the stray bullets," He read, but as he went on his voice grew slower, something in his eyes changed.

"They put themselves together, daring to poke their revolvers out rarely, but man by man, they gunned down the varmints around them. Hours passed, death staring them down the whole time, lucky breaks few and far between...but finally...the last one dropped. And they rose from the dust, as evening set in and cold was coming down with the rare rain. He smiled and she laughed, and their arms wrapped around each other, and then the horrible sound…"

"Sounds like something bad it going to happen…" She dared say.

"Yeah….something bad happens…."

The silence was long and uncomfortable, but she set the remnant of her muffin aside and took his hand in hers.

"Want to talk about it?"

"...I don't know. Never been the sort for talking through his feelings."

"Tough guys get scars too."

"I know. I've given a lot of tough guys a lot of scars."

"Please tell me."

"I don't…"

"I understand it's hard. It must be, to be in Blackwatch."

"I'm fine. Really."

He started to stand up, but she stood with him and dragged him down.

"No. Tell me."

Their eyes met and they saw into the world of the other, if but for a moment. In his eyes she found the pains of battle, the blood and sweat and heartache that went with being a soldier in Overwatch. And in her eyes, she could tell, he found something that attracted him, the care that went beyond borders and nationalities and ideas, and the love that was required to be a doctor like her, and to treat anyone no matter the price.

"Blackwatch has nothing to do with this….It's just...I guess my book got too real. My life is hardly boring, but sometimes it hits too close to home."

And then it clicked for her.

"Eric Paine."

"Eric Paine. Blackwatch candidate, I was supervising him for weeks, molding him, almost...when the battle broke out a few days ago, we went in together."

"You saw him die…"

"I didn't just see it. I felt it. I haven't written anything in this book since before that battle.I couldn't help but smile at the time, how me and him were back to back behind cover, surrounded and outgunned, and hoping we could shoot or run fast enough to get away."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. There would have been a lot more like him if not for you...and you can't be everywhere at once."

"No."

It was a reality every medic had to come to grips with, that they went where the fighting was worst, the potential for loss or saving was highest. She remembered the first battle she'd flown into with Overwatch; she lost seventeen that day. It was embarrassing, it was heartbreaking, more than anything, it was a personal scar. Her wings could never spread far enough to shield everyone. Eric Paine and Lee Sparks were proof of that.

"I just….he was with me one second, and gone the next, you know? I felt the bullet tear through him right beside me. It was...unreal."

"Fact is often stranger than fiction, or so they say. I'm sorry this happened."

"Yeah? Don't be. Like I said, you couldn't do anything more than you did, you kept a lot of the good boys alive. I've just got to...make my peace with it."

"Of course."

"And, erm, don't tell Reyes about this."

"Never."

"Thanks," he bade farewell, grabbing his book and one more muffin as he stood up.

"Wait," She called as he took his first steps away.

"Promise me not to stop writing."

"...Hm?"

"Death has a cruel way of taking the joy out of everything. Don't let it kill the author in you I never knew existed until now. Please."

He smiled, "Never."

* * *

By the time Mercy was back in her chair the moon was lower, the night entering its peak hours, which was to say the morning had begun to bloom. The screen looked less imposing now, she had to admit, but soon the humming of the fan and the the clicking of her fingers on the keys grew wearisome, and she longed for sleep. It seemed sweeter now, like she could actually achieve it without a nightmare or a web of sorrow haunting her under the covers. The barracks couldn't be far enough for her to wish it otherwise, but the report needed finishing all the same.

She found herself shaking her head and reciting to herself what Jack Morrison would say if her report wasn't finished.

 _"We're not here to lounge about in our fancies, Angela! We have responsibilities and obligations, and we can't uphold them if we're not on the same page!"_

Oh well...she'd faced sleepless nights before, she could bunker down and face one again. And when she did at last get to her neat, lonely bed, she would be eternally grateful that she was no miracle worker or any kind of angel, just a medical officer, and most of all, that it wasn't a bad thing.

Now she just needed a coffee maker in her office.


	2. Heroes Never Cry

**Welcome to the second chapter of In Strictest Confidence. I'm quite glad I got this one out as soon as I did, I feel like the ideas are just flooding through my mind about all the scenarios I could pull in this collection, and you'd think that would be a good thing. Well, you would indeed think so, but I tend to take these ideas, start every single one of them, and complete very few. Tis a curse I have borne for a long while.**

 **That said, I think we're safe for now. I plan to keep putting out content as long as I have the time and the Overwatch energy going...and with that new Mercy Witch skin out right now, I'm very focused on Overwatch, lol! Sadly, I have only 1400 coins and not much luck with legendary drops in my loot crates...we'll see I guess. Of course I already have Hanzo, Pharah, and even the Roadhog Halloween skins, but Mercy? Nope. Can't be gotten so easily. I have a sinking feeling I'm going to be spending (more) money...**

 **But all that aside, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I had originally thought of it as a Winston guest appearance, and I think he will appear one of these days...regardless, please enjoy. I was trying to make it humorous, but humor doesn't come easy to me in written form...I hope I did okay.**

 **Please leave a review and tell me what you thought, thanks for all the love and support! Enjoy!**

* * *

Mercy was used to being busy. Work never slowed at Overwatch. Never.

Except, it turned out, when the enemy was on an almost permanent trend of retreat. With nary a battle to attend to and thus no true injuries to speak of for the week, she was beginning to wonder what she was going to do with herself stuck at the base.

After checking inventory three times, double checking all her reports, attending to the needs of her patients and assistants to a tee, she was experiencing the rather odd sensation of boredom. Normally she would attend to her research and personal time.

This dry period just so happened to coincide with her funding renewal process, however. The lab was off limits for another four days. And as much as she loved the extra sleep, time at the spa with her assistants, and the ending of the book she'd been trailing for almost a month...she was ready to be useful again. And there wasn't a paper cut on Gibraltar to make better.

Things got so desperate she was actually suiting up to go on a day of extra drilling. She kept herself active and in good physical condition as a requirement of being on the field so much. Training wasn't new, but she had never before willingly gone above and beyond the call. This is what she became when even R&R was exhausted.

She'd come to terms with it at breakfast, or so she thought. She begged her chief assistant to grab her from it if anything came up, double checked with Jack and all the higher ups to see if she wasn't needed anywhere, even looked into taking a vacation in a third-world country to aid the doctors there...but evidently one week of no fighting was not enough to get her out of her post. Battles did spring up when they were least expected, they told her, so she couldn't risk leaving if heavy casualties arrived out of the blue until the overall state of affairs settled down. So she settled on hoping as she strapped on her helmet and wandered awkwardly onto the training course.

There was always the possibility something would go awry during training for someone. A few broken bones would be a nice distraction. Her smile faded when she stepped out of her own shoes and realized how horribly morbid that was to think about. In part because of the need to shake this way of thought, and in part because she was truly ready for a challenge, she decided to try a more difficult course today.

"Well…here goes nothing."

She put in the code of the program she wanted to run and got into position. Her caduceus staff wouldn't be required here, it was all about agility, mobility, and quick thinking in the face of adversity. She had learned the hard way teammates could not always save her as she could not always do the same for them.

She leapt from cover as the training drones came from three sides, two down the straight line that led to her objective, obscuring the finish line and firing numbing agent blasts; the other two popped out from either side of her starting point, half their bodies hidden behind crates.

Her side arm clutched tightly in her right hand, her eyes moving between targets with as much speed as she could muster, she darted into the fray. The robot to her right was blown in three consecutive body shots, and the other three did not aim as well as she did.

Taking the downed drone's cover, she managed a headshot on the single enemy directly across from her, but with heavy fire coming from the first two and clock ticking on, she advanced. Daring to be speedy, she zigged, zagged, and zoomed by the fire of the original two, never relenting in the pursuit of her goal.

That was when another two came out of the floor behind her, hidden behind a wall that shielded everything but their heads. Now she was trapped with no cover between four attackers.

She ducked first, and never taking her finger too far from the trigger, she used the boost in her step to fly out of harm's way and up against the wall. Now off the main path to the finish, she moved several strafes left, then right, then back to the left, and the robots did not easily follow her simple trickery.

But as the two new comers came, yet another pair joined the origina two near the end goal. All four bared their guns and let loose the training bolts, and her knee was hit before she could get away, removing the speed edge she had. She was hurrying to her best ability towards the new crates which had dropped from above, when yet a new obstacle, a fairly deep pit, opened up in her direct path, and she stopped herself from falling in by three fingers. She was breathing hard as she moved up and on behind the crates.

Her leg was going to burn later, but for now it simply felt dead, a phenomenon she very much disliked. Yet there was nothing to be done about it until after she got herself through this. Four against her, time passing quickly, the objective ever farther from her as the course extended itself in her moment of pause. This was where she depended on the soldiers. People like Jack or Jesse or Genji could be trusted to take away the enemy while they trusted her to have their backs.

All alone, she realized that this was something she ought to have been doing much more of, and decided she needed to capitalize on this time off as the timer got to red font, indicating imminent failure.

"Fear not!" A booming and unexpected voice called as a hulking figure dropped with the final pair of bots to join the foursome at the goal, "I am your shield! Go!"

Part of her was question what she saw, the other part was determined to prove herself capable in this test. From behind the bright blue shield of Reinhardt she took precise aim, juking to the side and back in between the perfect aiming spot and the safe zone of the old knight's protection, until the last bot remained.

She boosted forward and aimed high, coming in overhead and blowing it with a single shot, crossing the goal in the nick of time.

The smile on her face was great, but she suspected not as large as the smile behind the armored helmet. She ran to him, questions abounding.

"When did you get back? I thought you were with the main force moving through Canada?"

"I vas, but I heard you needed a shield!" He returned her affectionate embrace with one arm, the other holding the mighty war hammer that was his constant companion over his back.

"It's wonderful to have someone close back. I've been anxious to get back with you, but I've been kept here for lack of conflict."

"Lack of conflict? No. Ze the enemy lurks around every corner in ze field, but zey retreat often too. Ve de-bug zeir traps and scatter zem like flies vhen ve show ourselves, but zey persist in ze shadows."

"I'd love to be there for everyone...but what brings you back to Gibraltar?"

"A minor accident, slight infection, Ana says. Jack sent me home to take my medicine."

She was already taking him by the hand towards her office, "Then let's take a look shall we?"

Try to shrug it off as he might, she knew instantly there was more to this one than he would want to let on. If Ana was unable to get the job done on the field, it was something severe.

He talked her ears off the whole way, mostly insisting he was just fine, twisting in recent events and stories from the frontlines for her benefit. She kept up her bedside manner well before they got to the bed, but she was in full-on medical mode: observing the way he walked, analyzing his speech in relation to his pace and posture, subtly increasing her pace to see if he could keep up.

She had to admit, whatever was afflicting him, he was taking it in stride, she hardly noticed a thing wrong with him and his spirits were high. Oh, if only others could take their medicine like Reinhardt.

By the time he had removed his helmet and top half of his armor on the examination table, however, she knew his act was just an act, which she both appreciated and hated. Total honesty was always, _always_ the best policy to take with your doctor.

His whole arm was crimson red, the blood in his veins almost glowing. A nasty affliction, and she knew whether or not he was at rest or using it, it had to be stinging something fierce.

"How did it happen," She asked, grabbing her clipboard and rustling through the container beside her all at once.

"As I said on ze training field, ze enemy leaves us traps to slow our progress. I volunteered to go into a high-risk area. It vas bitter work, to debug all ze houses and get ze families back to zeir homes and lives, but I did it gladly."

He slowed down and looked uncomfortably to the floor.

"Erm...on ze last one, I was sharing a few jokes vith Lena and Winston, and I...did not notice ze trap in the ze corner. Ze needle jabbed me right between ze armor plating here on ze shoulder," he pointed. It was reddest there.

"Well Ana was right to send you here. This is a highly volatile toxin. If you had delayed yourself in coming to me the arm may have been lost."

"I vill endure," he promised, "Vhat do you need me to do?"

"Luckily, we're quite an advanced medical center. You'll be fine with a day's rest and a shot."

Something in the atmosphere itself shifted, and his great amber eyes showed an unusual emotion: was it fear?

"I'd razer not," he said quickly, "is there no pill or scan or somezing you can do?"

"No...it must be a shot."

"Surely a medic as vonderful as yourself can work around zat."

"Reinhardt...why so evasive?"

"I do not like needles."

She almost wanted to laugh, but dared not disrespect him so. He was too great a protector and friend.

"I'm sorry...it has to be a shot. That, or the arm goes."

"Zis will not do…" He muttered thoughtfully.

"I can make it quick."

"..."

"You aren't afraid, are you?"

"Afraid? Nonsense! I fear nothing!"

"Come now, Reinhardt. Don't be silly. Let me help."

He had curled his arm, and he was choosing not to look at her.

"Reinhardt...you are being a child!" She accused.

"Give me anyzing but a shot."

"There is nothing."

"Zen I will recover on my own."

"Not without losing your arm, and maybe much more."

"No...I vill overcome it myself."

"Don't make me order you."

She had turned to her unchallenged authority as chief medical officer sparingly before, only in the most dire of situations did she pull rank on the other officers; the one time she gave Jack an order she thought her heart would stop before he complied.

But she had never had to even think of doing such a thing with the gentle giant before her. Fear did strange things to people.

"There's nothing to worry about," She assured in his continued silence, "you'd be surprised how many agents don't like to get their shots...almost as many as don't like to take their medicine. Sometimes it takes a pill, other times it takes a shot."

Even now, however, he refused to let her see the wound.

She sighed and moved in closer, herself a little embarrassed to be saying what needed to be said.

"I can give it to you on the arm like a man, or over my knee like a babe."

She had never seen his face so red, the whitening facial har moving around like an uncomfortable caterpillar on his lips as he struggled to accept what had to happen. Something was straining in his throat, she could tell, but the cat had this lion's tongue for now.

"Very well, bend over."

Now he was looking her in the eyes, and there was anger there, but not directed at her. She knew in his head, the curses were flying, at the lack of alternate methods of treatment, at his own carelessness, and most especially at the faceless enemy agent who left the trap in the first place.

He was almost malfunctioning trying to make up his mind, but either way, she knew he was close to cracking and accepting it. It was all a matter of how to do so now.

"By the way," she said as she readied the injection, "as it is much farther from the infection sight, we might have to do it more than once if you want it in the posterior."

He moaned despairingly and closed his eyes as he relinquished his arm.

She smiled, an amused expression halfway between satisfied and unbelieving of how difficult it had been to get here.

"Hurry! Hurry and do it!" He told her.

The needle was just poking into his skin when he gave a hoarse shout, nothing like the battle cries he was used to throwing out on the field, but a cry full of other emotions. He sounded like he was holding hands with a ghost against his will, or forced to peek at his mother or sister in a state of undress.

As much as he respected him, now she really did want to laugh, as his wail got longer and louder exponentially with each passing second. The needle hadn't yet pierced his skin.

"Do it! Do it quickly my friend!" He screamed, tears now coming down his face as she stood still as stone.

She held her place for a few seconds, then the inner doctor took control.

"Reinhardt!" She shouted furiously, snapping him out of his fear and throwing him into awe, injecting the treatment so that he never noticed it.

After just three seconds, the medication was almost all in his veins, now returning to their regular blue color.

"Heroes never cry," She encouraged with a very warm smile.


	3. The Doctor is Out

**So how bad am I at updating? Well...this was supposed to be out for Halloween, lol. It was inspired by my great joy upon finally getting the witch skin for Mercy (YAY!), which I absolutely still have on, because I honestly feel like her other legendary skins are more or less bad, so I'm so glad we got that skin. Anyways...I think you get where this is headed. It is definitely unlike most additions to this collection will be, so there's your fair warning. (But honestly, I want diversity here, so I think it's a fun addition)**

 **Thanks for all the great reviews I've gotten, and all the support in general. It helps a lot, so please keep it up. Enjoy!**

* * *

By the time the moon was flowing into an upwards arc, Mercy had called it a night. From her bedroom window she saw the open sea spread before her, the reflection of the many illustrious stars dancing over the water in a spectacle for her to enjoy. Tonight's enjoyments would be cut short, however, when she was roused from her thoughts be her worst fears.

An unceremonious sniffling caught her ear and she moved her hand to her mouth. She tried again. While the pleasantly cool air flowed through her left nostril, the right was cut off. She put more effort into it, and the dreaded sniffling happened again. It was undeniable now: She was getting sick.

Her head plopped onto the pillows and she groaned as she pulled the covers tight. It was always a cruel irony when the medic was subject to illness. She wanted to lose it in the fluffy joy of her mattress, escape its symptoms in the bliss of good dreams...but germs did not cater nor pander to the wants of human beings.

She had taken preventative measures as soon as she could, but the damage had been done with the young private Kaplan.

"He needs immediate attention!" She had called to the orderlies, "Bring him to me quickly!"

The miraculous restoration was ignited by the end of her caduceus staff, and the soldier began coughing blood and heaving deep breaths. As she crouched down next to him, she kept her focus divided between him and the rush of oncoming wounded from the trenches just a hundred yards away.

"Move him to Donnovan!" She ordered, and her assistants compiled in fashion.

The private was still breathing deep, but he would be done in less than twenty seconds, assuming her aide could retrieve the bullets in time, otherwise he would be taped up and sent to await surgery. There was no time to delay the regrowth of his cells with damage so bad.

"She needs to see Martinez. Probable fracture in the knee too, don't overlook it!" She barked on, turning her eye once more briefly to the soldier under her care.

"No, not him. We've got a patient waiting with a collapsed lung with Rogers!"

It had finally occurred to her that Private Kaplan was trying to say something. She leaned in.

"Speak louder if you can," She urged with a gentleness she had learned to flip on and off by this time in her career.

She nodded to the questioning look the next aide gave her, and smiled at the assistant beside her who had retrieved the last of the bullets.

"I didn't catch that, say it one more-"

 **ACHOO!**

His bloody spittle landed all over her face and she wiped it away with her wrist at once, but it left a foul stench and she was coughing deeply at once. She never did learn what he had to say, for she stood to full height and moved with a sway where she was needed most next. By the time she cleaned her face well and took a couple pills the seed had already been planted. And now here she was, doomed to be sick by morning.

Now she was subject to the precursor of illness: the dread of waiting to see how sick and in what forms she would find herself. Maybe it was just a bad cold. Maybe it was something he picked up in Egypt over the past few days. Perhaps it was something she couldn't begin to anticipate.

She moaned again, getting out of bed to grab all the essentials. Tissues, an inhalant to clear her nostrils, an empty bowl, a full glass of water, a rag, detergent wipes, and the fluffiest robe she had. Her plain t-shirt and pajama bottoms weren't going to hold up to the cold Gibraltar mornings.

Now there was only one more thing to accomplish before she could take a shot at getting some rest. Tomorrow morning there was a staff meeting, and she refused with every fiber in her being to wake up at 4:45 AM to be there right at 5 AM.

So she stepped up to the computer and started recording.

"Good morning," She put a collected and lukewarm voice on, but all she heard was a shaky throat, "As you may be able to tell, I've come down with something. I understand more than you can imagine how important it is that I be there for everyone, but I'm sure you can survive a day without me. Unless the sky starts falling down or we're going to be blown into orbit by the enemy, I'd advise any and everyone to stay away….don't find me, I'll find you."

She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts and giving the camera a hard stare for better effect.

"...Thank you," She finished.

She stopped the camera and sent a copy to all her aides, to the terminal at her door so that it would play before anyone had the chance to disturb her, and right to the officers' personal notification centers.

As she crawled back into bed she noted the oddity of a doctor being unable to stop a sickness once it had taken hold; they had done incredible things in the last few decades, especially in the fields of science and medicine, and yet this was something they had been unable, or perhaps simply neglected to, work at.

She needed to look at beautiful pictures, read her book, and gain her spirits back. She needed rest and a good night's sleep, a frail hope at best. She needed most especially to be left alone tomorrow. Now...how would it all play out?

* * *

The night was dark and cold and drizzling when she woke. Nothing seemed familiar to her, even her own hands as they graced her face. Slowly, it seemed the mists in her mind and the veil behind her eyes were lifting, and knew by instinct more than anything to look out into the darkness.

She saw much more than shadows through the falling rain. Far away she knew she was needed to work her talents, at a great reward to herself. Something was wrong, and only she could fix things.

The rain was torrential, unrelenting and bone chilling, but it hardly dazed her as she sped up into the night atop her broom. The large castle was not so big from this height and distance, but she could, see rather, that it would soon fall under siege. What had that bumbling idiot Junkenstein done now?

She flew in close and saw lines of the good doctor's mechanical slaves coming together behind the great fortress, but she landed on a balcony in the rear of the stronghold. She clutched her broom tightly in her right hand, and with her left she flung the barred doors open with ease. Her rage was coming out, and she needed to redirect it to more useful channels.

Junkenstein's minions attempted to hold her in place and apprehend her, quick fire spells made short work of them. She sighed frustratedly as she worked her way down the halls and soon into the throneroom. Junkenstein was muttering to himself in the high throne, at his feet gold and brown armor from a large knight lay dusty and disrespected. 'Balderich' was engraved on a plaque beside the empty space on the side of the throne room.

"What is going on!?" She demanded.

The doctor jumped out of the chair and stumbled onto all fours.

"What? Oh...the Wicked Witch of the Wild, what brings you here? You know what, nevermind, I'm glad you're here"

"I haven't been getting what you promised me, doctor, and I see the gift I've given you has been squandered."

"It's not what it looks like! I can explain! I...err.."

"Well?"

"I ran into complications. I didn't think they'd be a problem...but they've vanquished the Reaper, and my beautiful creation was almost obliterated."

"I see…"

"But they're almost dead, I'm wearing them down...maybe you could have your servant join with mine, and the four of us can squash this pathetic attempt to retake the castle. Eh?"

"You are pathetic, Jameson Junkenstein...but I have made an investment in you. I will see it through."

"Thank goodness, I think-"

"But if you fail again," The witch said with a delightful but somehow odious smile, drawing close to the doctor and grabbing his human hand with her own, "I will send the Reaper to vanquish you."

"I-I understand...of course, but-"

He screeched when her hand dashed to his crotch and squoze tightly, "And your monstrosity and all your metal contraptions will burn before you as I take your soul into my collection."

She released him and he fell to his knees, openly sobbing.

"I have preparations to make, keep the guests entertained until I am ready," She instructed, walking away.

She found a dark place, with a few candles she light with the swipe of her broom and a mirror she copied three times, so that one was on each wall.

"Rise," She spoke in her own language, often heard as something unnatural by the mortals she lived around, "rise with the heart of unholy vengeance, rise with the fires of my wrath, rise because I am your master and I command it."

She repeated the incantation thricefold, each time a mirror burned with a reddish-orange marking, and the last time the candle fire grew immensely. Her eyes had been closed at the first mutterings, but now she opened them and they glowed yellow with mystic power. And for a split second, she saw through the eyes of her tortured servant, and felt his pain. It was exquisitely dark, as she chose to keep it.

And she glimpsed the heroes who defied her servants, by spell or by word of mouth, interfering with her plans for this realm. It would not do, she decided, and saw them all in her mind's eye: the soldier, old and gray, experienced and tactful, along with the alchemist, an amateur magician with only basic insights into the mystic arts, in other words, a child compared to her; the yellow man with quiver full of arrows, perhaps slightly versed in the mystic ways of his homelands, but certainly not as powerful as the alchemist, and thus less of a threat. Lastly was the wanderer from the far west, cocky and sure handed, suited for a gun like the soldier. But guns were useless as paper to a witch of her caliber.

She spoke again in her native tongue, and her reflection dimmed in the mirrors as the candles once more glowed brightly, and the next instant she was gone along with her reflection.

Junkenstein was fiddling with a crude invention outside the walkway on the third story, below the archer positions on the top of the wall, but still above the castle portcullis. He once more jumped when she appeared.

"Gah! Don't do that!" He scolded, quickly finding a more appropriate tone, "please…"

"I am ready, play your part well, doctor."

He grinned and clutched a trigger in his hand, and the next instant his creature burst through the main gates, throwing his hook against the attackers.

The archer was caught, and pulled with superhuman strength towards the beast, but his bow and hands were quick, and the monster was blinded by arrows before his prey was within reach. The archer leaped atop the monster's head and saw the army of robotic minions marching towards him.

He backflipped away and showed his true worth: _"Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!"_

Mystic energy rushed from the arrow, wiping the army to bits and pieces, and further stunning the doctor's monster. It would have been a perfect opportunity for the small party to get into the castle, had the witch not sent her own pawn into play.

In the background, the soldier cried out warning to his allies as the Reaper reappeared. Junkenstein attacked with his contraption of primitive fire bursts, allowing his monster to regain itself. The archer scattered around the explosions, rejoining his party as the Reaper began to wear down and crumble away again.

She flew to him and gave him the flow of magical rejuvenation that made him hers, and revealed herself to the enemy.

"My servant never dies!" She warned, keeping the flow through her broom funneled into the Reaper's rotted skull.

"Die witch!" The alchemist shouted, sending a draught-laced dart towards her, which was easily stopped by the handle of her broom. The soldier let loose wild fire on her, all of which was absorbed and shot back at the group.

"Witch!? I'd use a different word myself, but it still rhymes," the gunslinger grumbled from behind his cover, Junkenstein and his monster racing towards the engagement, now a purely four on four.

"Ha ha! I told you, I told you all! Attacking me was a mistake! It was your last, in fact!" the deranged doctor shouted, spewing more bursts of fire chaotically.

"This is for the Lord you murdered!" the soldier shouted back, jumping from behind cover and sending explosions of his own at the doctor, who shrunk away in fear, but did not move. The witch did not need him alive, and did nothing.

The monster, however, was quite protective of his father, and bore the attack on his large chest. He roared angrily as the Reaper phased through the archer's arrows and advanced.

"Ha ha! I am the master of this realm! Me! Jameson - what!?"

Another of the alchemist's darts found the monster's throat and his roar turned into a gurgled moan, and he fell onto his face.

"How dare you!? I'll blow you all to-"

The gunslinger was quick, and his aim was true. Altogether a false victory for them, and less work for the witch. So the doctor fell with a cry of shock, his proud contraptions bursting all around him and consuming his cold body in fire.

"Oh, doctor," The witch whispered as she faced his burning corpse, "you never did see the truth of things, did you?"

"Now then, _bitch_ ," the gunslinger said, "you're next!"

He unleashed many bullets, but she broke the connection to her servant and spun the broom around, gathering the energy around her and moving it into the way. There was a bright yellow burst, and the bullets scattered onto the ground, while the gunslinger was shoved onto his back.

A fast fire spell shoved him back down and burned out his cloak and shirt as he attempted to jump back up. The next time, however, she did not expect the flash of light he threw in her face, and he got back to his feet and raised his firearm again.

She mounted her broom and flew up into the night, drawing his fire while his friends worked down the Reaper and the Monster stirred in his rest. The Alchemist attended to his burn wounds as he took his aim; a few shots came shockingly close, and she revised her strategy. She swiped in low and took the archer from behind, nailing him with her broom handle and sending a spell down on him to be sure.

The alchemist rushed over as the witch moved straight, giving the gunslinger what he thought was a good shot, until she dropped off the broom and floated down quickly. Her spell flew fast, but his bullet was already in the air.

They miraculously collided and the fire burst like an egg in a hand, incinerating everything it came in contact with, including the witch's upper garment. Her spells protected her body, but the cloth sizzled away into ash, exposing her breasts.

Like most men, the gunslinger was addicted to women, whether he acknowledged it or not. His aim and resolve wavered for half a second, if that, but it was enough. His shot flew and she simply grabbed the alchemist with her magic and flung her in the path. She just barely made it in time.

She was dead as she hit the ground, and the gunslinger cried out in disbelief.

Then it was his turn to cry out as the awakened monster's hand grabbed him by the head and pulled. The Reaper was felled, but the soldier's triumph was short lived as he surveyed the landscape.

The witch moved her hand upwards and a yellow glow consumed the Reaper's body, bringing it back up and cleansing the damage. The monster charged the soldier wildly, but the witch stopped it with her broom.

The yellow spell slowed him, and then stopped him, and the rage that it felt over his father's death was taken and turned into the witch's tool. And now that she had two beside her, the soldier knelt down to one knee, and began muttering something to himself.

"Like these two, you show promise. Surrender yourself to me, and I will spare you the pain," The witch enticed, shoving her exposed chest forward on the chance the soldier was like most men.

"Go to hell…" He said bitterly, refusing to look upon her.

"Very well…" She said, with some small genuine sadness, raising her hand again as her servants, old and new alike, stood blankly and watched.

 **"Angela!"**

Mercy shot up like she'd sat on a tack. Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What?" She asked, suddenly realizing she was still sick. Then realizing the nature of her dream.

He did not look happy. If only he knew what she'd thought of him just a few moments ago.

"You get one day. Rest well, but not so much that you neglect the paperwork I left for you."

She sank back into the mattress, warm from her body heat, and closed her eyes, trying to imagine the redness on her cheeks was not there.

"Yes, boss," She answered drolly.

He stood up and moved to exit, but stopped in the doorway.

"I...want you know that you deserve more days off. You do a great job here."

"Thank you…" She answered, eyes now open and looking to the man in the doorway.

"Rest well. See you tomorrow."

He exited like that, and she was alone again. What a pity it was.

"Thank you…"


	4. Birthdays

**Hey all! Welcome back to my Mercy library collection! This one comes as an idea I've had for a while, and wanted to do previously, but just couldn't seem to work out. Thankfully I was able to today, and so I have posted it here for you all! Now, this is going to contradict a bit with what Blizzard has already put out, so there's a disclaimer for you. They did it their way, I'm doing it mine. And I know one of these characters was featured last chapter, but that wasn't really a Mercy interaction with anyone, it was kind of an alternate reality type of deal.**

 **Anyways, hope you like my interpretation of this important part of Overwatch history, I'm glad to be bringing this addition to light after so long in my head. As always, I cherish reviews and critiques, please leave me one on the way out. :D Enjoy!**

* * *

It was raining that day, a rare occurrence in the long haul of dry heat they'd been having all the previous week. Having just gotten back to Gibraltar after a short time at Ecopoint Antarctica, she'd been looking forward to that sun. She'd had a minimal workload too, it was the perfect time to resume her tanning efforts.

After wrapping up the serious business in her office, Mercy left the rest to her aides and decided to attend to a few personal matters. Her journal had been getting fewer entries as of late, but twenty minutes took a step towards changing that. As always, it was good to vent. After tidying up her quarters, she grabbed an umbrella and chanced the rains outside.

Most personnel were enjoying the cold, crisp afternoon. The mess hall was lit up and noisy with folks enjoying coffee. Much as she would like to join in a bit later, the task at hand called for a bit of isolation. Some shelter was preferable, but she'd sooner sit alone on the hard rocks than go into her office. The closest of possible locations was the expansion to the training facility, perched up in the rocks over the bulk of the training center, and still under construction. There would be cover and quiet, and a nice view to boot. Even in the dreary mood of coming fall, Gibraltar was beautiful.

The climb up was manageable, but she'd be very grateful for a staircase when one was installed. It was very windy up here, and she was forced to fold up the umbrella or risk losing it. The frame of the expansion stood firm, just under the lowest of the dark clouds. Some of the roofing was installed already, and a small alcove in the rocks housed some of the machinery and equipment used for renovation. Some muffled sound was coming from the alcove, likely an animal exploring the man-made objects in its habitat. She decided it would be better to stick near the border of the frame and look out into the ocean as she sat down to begin writing.

 _Dear Adrian,_

 _This will get to you later than I wish it had, I've just been so busy! In fact, I'm writing this all on your birthday. I just got back to my post in Gibraltar, supposedly to be remain here until the next phase of the campaign. As always I can't go into detail, but I might be heading south soon. I'll of course continue sending my letters to you and mother._

 _What's happening in your world? I sometimes see so much of the bigger picture that I really miss the simple things, the small details from family and home that get swept under the rug. Everything I seem to do I do for everyone, human and omnic, men and women beyond borders. How is our musician cousin? When was the last time the family went out to eat? (And where?) What shirt did you wear today? Tell me enough to write a book!_

 _I don't know when the present will arrive, I shipped it out before leaving for Ecopoint base, I hope it arrives in conjunction with this letter. I think you'll really enjoy it ;D_

 _I also wanted to ask you_

The letter took a backseat when a voice startled her out of her seat against the rock.

 **"Incoming!"**

She only just had time to leap forward as an arrow struck the rock where her arm had been a second ago. She breathed deeply and stood as the enigmatic newcomer named Hanzo ran towards her.

"My apologies, I would not have used my scatter arrow if I had known you were here," He said, bowing at her feet.

"Well, I suppose no harm was done. Thank you for the warning...I wouldn't have seen it in time."

He remained low and said nothing and she took a moment to look behind him. It seemed it was not an animal in the alcove after all, but an archer practicing his aim in the dark.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, it seems we had the same idea," She told him, raising him from the ground with a smile.

"I often find comfort in the quiet above the base. Today was...a day for quiet."

"Something go wrong?" She offered.

"Yes. Something went terribly wrong, but it is a mistake we cannot fix."

"I-I'm sorry."

He moved to take his arrow from the rock, and she saw many of them landed in the stone or in small crags and crevices.

"Quite the smart weapon," She commended as she reached down to grab one.

"It has saved my life many times."

She decided to be bold, "I wager that means it has also taken many lives."

"Yes," He said gruffly as he yanked an arrow from a metal sheet.

He turned to her, "Have you ever taken a life, doctor?"

"Please, call me Angela, or Mercy at least. And….I have had to take a few, though I am in the business of saving lives, no matter their allegiance."

"A noble policy."

"A lot of our fellows would disagree with that," She replied with a proud smile.

"It seems to me that a lot of our fellows see only good and evil."

"I agree. Not everyone can see the grey in the world, only black and white. If I might ask, where did you learn to see beyond the two extremes?"

He hesitated as she handed him a quarter-quiver's worth of arrows. She showed him a smile, and a warm look, but he turned aside and sighed. She moved to pick up her letter.

"You know, before coming up here I chose to vent my feelings into a journal. It seems like its been awhile since you did the same, maybe you'd like to vent to me? I'm a trained professional, by the way."

"Perhaps some other time," He said at last, his arrows all gathered and his bow in hand, "please excuse me, I-"

"No, no, don't leave. I'll just keep on writing, by all means, don't go. I won't pry, so long as you come to me when you need to talk. I'm always listening."

"I...Thank you. That would be fine."

He looked over to the alcove as she retook her seat, but by the time she had her pen on the paper again, he was on his knees, basking in the gray glow of the afternoon.

He sat in silence for a moment, but then spoke, perhaps because of her rapid pen movements.

"To whom do you write?"

"My younger brother, Adrian. Today is his birthday."

His eyes shot towards her, his mouth slightly agape.

"What?" She inquired.

"Nothing...just...curious. Today would be my younger brother's birthday as well."

The words stuck out so plainly. Would be, he said. It was time to be bold again, since the chance had presented itself.

"I'm sorry to hear that….what happened?"

He sighed again, and she worried that he might get angry and try to leave, but he calmed himself and resumed his meditating position, speaking to her at rest.

"My brother learned many things from me, though diligence and responsibility were not among those things...so I was confronted with a choice, and in my confrontation he was killed."

She set her letter aside and shifted, afraid to embrace him and disturb his chance to process this, but uncomfortable with leaving him without a human touch in such a bad recollection. But she let him explain.

…

"Genji!"

"What?" The young sparrow asked hotly, spinning in place to meet his brother's gaze.

"You must accept this! You have to grow up. Come with me to the meeting."

Genji chuckled, and walked on.

"Genji! I won't ask again."

A trio of shuriken was his answer, each one dodged expertly and gracefully, but Hanzo's face was now contorted in anger.

"You do not decide my destiny!" Genji warned.

Lightning and thunder clashed in the sky, and as the rains came pouring down in the cement dojo yard, Hanzo drew his sword, and Genji his.

"I decide the destiny of our clan. Last I looked, you were a part of the Shimada clan."

"Then maybe I will forsake my clan."

"You don't mean that!"

"I do!"

Wordlessly they leapt at each other, steel ringing against steel, wooden dummies all around them being cut to shreds. Like animals they growled, trading swords and fists and feet, thrashing against each other. Hanzo was the first to land a decisive blow.

His sword hilt smashed into the side of his brother's face, and Genji tumbled down and skidded away.

"I am not playing! Submit to your authorities!"

Genji shot back up and twirled his blade in his hand, shaking his head.

Through gritted teeth, Hanzo charged again.

An overhead strike unbalanced Genji, and a following low sweep put him on his back legs. Genji gave a great jump backwards and let three more shuriken fly to give himself space. Hanzo dodged the ninja stars while Genji cut down a wooden dummy and threw it. Again, Hanzo dodged.

Two more sets of three shuriken came towards him, the first trio in a straight line, the following ones in a wider arc. Not as skilled in the art of deflection as his brother, but still capable, Hanzo blocked them all with only the faintest, single tear to his orange shirt. Hanzo shot forward to close distance while Genji threw down a smoke bomb.

Regaining a defensive stance in the midst of the mist, Hanzo waited, but even still did not anticipate the swift strike that tore the screen of smoke in two and broke his stance. He was still on his feet until the following kick from Genji landed across the back of his leg.

Genji brought his sword hilt down over his brother's face this time, but Hanzo put up his free hand and grabbed on, keeping the hilt at bay over his face. Both brothers vied for dominance, and breathed in and out deeply as they summoned their inner strengths.

"How dare you disrespect the clan? The Empire!?"

"Family is supposed to give you wings!" Genji accused, "My family chains me down!"

They went silent for a time as the hilt wavered, going down farther and then raising up slightly, and then back down and so on and so forth. Just as Genji groaned deeply and began to push the hilt dangerously close, Hanzo's hilt struck again, in the stomach this time, breaking their lock.

A swift punch put Genji on his back and Hanzo leapt on top of his brother, holding his sword against Genji's throat.

"Submit! Put your life in order!"

"No.." Genji refused with shortness of breath.

"We cannot have this!" Hanzo shouted, removing the blade and grabbing his brother by the hem of his shirt, slamming him back down several times. When Genji's blade swung from the side, Hanzo's beat it back down.

Hanzo rolled forward, still keeping a hold of Genji, and raised him forcefully, only to kick him in the back of the leg as had been done to him and put him in a choke hold. Genji began to limpen and cease to struggle, and Hanzo loosed the hold.

That instant, Genji's arm snapped back and a shuriken stuck into the top of Hanzo's shoulder, and the younger brother fought his way out, retaking his breath and position as Hanzo removed the ninja star.

"So...the two dragons cannot find middle ground...then let us let our abilities decide which of us will determine our destinies!" Hanzo shouted.

 _Damn you, brother. Why must it come to this?_

Genji lowered his center of gravity, Hanzo did the same, but Genji's speed was still greater, and the power he put behind it was great. Hanzo's sword took the attack, but received a crack along the edge and flew from its master, who himself skidded backwards on the soles of his feet.

Genji turned in the distance and reared the blade again, as Hanzo drew his bow and reached into his quiver. The arrows flew like whispers, but each one was deflected or evaded in turn, until Genji was in just the right spot.

Hanzo jumped high and blocked blade with bow, trading fists once more with Genji, and doing a decent job of it. As they landed, Hanzo stepped back and to the side, swinging his bow to incapacitate, but Genji ducked and went into a flurry of strikes, each one capable of taking his older brother down. The last one locked him with Hanzo's bow, and as Genji used both hands to drive the sword further, Hanzo used one of his to grab an arrow from the quiver.

They continued in their next struggle, all the while the arrow was notched and ready to be released, moving slowly towards Genji. They kept on until Genji decided to break away and charge again, at which time Hanzo summoned his greatest strength without fully intending to. The arrow slid back a bit farther and he took the quick aim he was regarded for.

 _What am I doing?_

"Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!"

 _Why did I..?_

The blue dragons flowed like rushing water from Hanzo's tattoo, lit ablaze with power and aimed at his charging brother; even at high a speed as Genji was running he could not escape it. So he leapt, and then leapt again in the air, high as he had ever leapt. His own green power came to life along the edge of his blade as the blue spirit dragons flew below him.

 _One shot. I cannot miss...but if I don't..._

Running on instinct, Hanzo drew the final arrow as Genji shouted with wide eyes.

"Ryujin no ken wo kurae-argh!"

It was as though his eyes saw for the first time in the battle, and Hanzo dropped the bow as he saw the scatter of arrows fly into his brother's open mouth and burst through his neck and chest and head. Hanzo ran to his fallen brother's body as it fell to the ground, red and wet and broken like so many of the arrows sticking out of him. The younger's sword fell like thunder and was as forgotten as the bow as Hanzo gently lifted Genji's head up.

His face was blank and bloodied.

"Genji….no!...Genji…."

…

"I stayed with him for hours afterwards, cradling his body and begging to undo what I had done," Hanzo said at last, still at rest.

After another, briefer, pause, he went on, "I was not right to kill my brother. Nor was he right to shirk his duties. But at the end of it all, I killed him, and I lost myself for years. I abandoned my duty, as I accused him of doing, and wandered the world for years. An outcast. A lone wolf. A failure."

Now Mercy could not keep herself at bay, and moved to him, but he stood up suddenly and turned to her, his bow in hand and his eyes intent.

"His name was Genji."

 _Genji!?_ She might have known...

"I honor him every year on that anniversary. I will go home to do so in just four days time.

"Hanzo…."

Should she tell him? Was it her place to let him know? Perhaps Genji had not forgiven his brother. Perhaps he had truly died since she had found him and given him his life back - at a cost. Perhaps it was her duty to tell him, and she would be spiting him by not revealing what she knew.

"Yes?"

"I...I am so very sorry," She said, embracing him a tight hug and wondering how she could get out of the corner she was in.

"The world is not full of black and white...Genji taught me that when I killed him. I tell myself that with every death comes honor, and with honor comes redemption...but it may be that I am only running from the truth...even now."

"No."

What was she doing? He was giving her a puzzled look, and she knew she had to say something.

"No...you can't keep this hanging over you. I don't know if killing anyone brings honor, but I know that redemption doesn't come from honor, but in how you adjust to the shame...how you make yourself better."

He seemed to be considering her seriously, so she went on.

"It's unfortunate than violence is the solution for so much of the problems in the world...but so it must be for now. You killed your brother in the wrong, but here, with us, you are making a difference. It may be grim work, but you have a talent for knowing when grim work is undeserved. You have killed wrongly, and rightly if there is such a thing…"

She was rambling now, and knew it.

"I...I think that if Genji had lived...and he was the free spirit I think he is, he would want you to forgive yourself for something that happened so long ago."

He gave her another odd stare, and then turned his head towards the pouring rain.

"It just may be...that you are right."

His words have hope, his tone and his face less so. But Mercy was satisfied for the moment.

"I meant it...if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. I'm always here."

"Thank you…"

He had a decision to make now, the most important one since that rainy day so long ago. She prayed he would make the right one. He was powerful and skilled, but he was still hurting himself after all this time. Understandable, but unfortunate, and something that needed fixing.

And then there was Genji? Where was he, and what would he do?


	5. The Hero and the Angel

**Hi ho everyone! Welcome to another installment of my Mercy library, this time featuring: Soldier 76! I've used him quite a few times before, but never in a "guest star" role, and though I once thought he was a pretty cheap character in game (and let's face it, he is pretty good at almost everything), I grew to like him, mostly through his story, the things we know, and the things we still don't, or assume.**

 **Anyways, with the Valentine's event debuting in the PTR very recently, it calls into question the canon-ness of this entry, but whatever, I like it well enough. So, I hope you enjoy, and that your games are good, and lag free, and altogether, as fun as always. Until next time, thanks very much for giving this a read, and be sure to let me have a review so I know what to attend to next time! :D**

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Never since the end of the Omnic Crisis had Mercy ever felt so close to death. The young, bleeding man beside her didn't need to know that though.

"Hang on," She told him, doing everything to keep herself upright in the back of the vehicle while stopping the bleeding.

"It's going to get worse!" Jack Morrison warned from the driver's seat, racing the flier down a hill as the Talon agents shot at them in waves from behind.

"Do we have an update on ETA?" Ana barked over the comm.

"Less than two!" Jack replied in as much a bark.

The Cairo lanes were rampant with high speed traffic, but much of it scattered away from the gunfire. The shining cube that was the Quad Pyramid Defense Structure was aflame, and would fall any minute. When it did, half the city and all the outlying area would be condemned to disaster, if not certain death.

It was a tragedy that was unavoidable, but it could be made up for if Ana managed to get what they came for.

The Overwatch Flier Model 4.2.1 lit up in smoke and nearly tailspun over the Cairo lanes and into the giant sinkholes that had developed over the years of Omnic activity in the city outskirts. They'd been hit, but Jack would push it farther than any engineer or tester would ever allow or dare themselves. What other choice did they really have?

"It hurts…" The young man bleeding beside her moaned, more focused on his personal battle than the communal one.

"I know, it will continue for a while, we're on our way out and the carrier is running an intercept route. I'll have you good as new in less than ten minutes," She promised.

The glistening cube drew closer, and the barrage of fire coming at and from it exploded around them, the Flier spinning once more around and fighting for chaos against Jack's control.

"Damnit!" Jack cursed, "turret is out of ammo."

The sound of continuously pumping fire on the back exterior had indeed stopped, and now it seemed the fire directed at them was coming in faster than before.

"Doctor...it stopped….I can't feel my chest anymore…"

"Sshhh," She consoled, knowing that ten minutes might not be enough anymore.

"Ana! Jump, now!" Jack ordered.

Ana Amari was many things, fearless was one nobody could doubt. A small figure staving off the fire of many others near the top of the flaming cube ceased resistance and ran full sprint towards the edge. It would be close, and the landing would have to be perfect, but it was doable.

She knew once the Egyptian and the objective were inside the vehicle things were only bound to get more hectic. Sure enough, she observed out of the corner of her eye while grabbing another tool from the kit beside her, some of the Talon agents had followed her into a free fall.

"Five...four…" Jack counted down, strafing the vehicle as concentrated fire zoned them towards the middle lane.

"I need you to look at me," Mercy told the soldier, distracting him from the very painful trick she was pulling with his innards, which he would not observe if she did not let him, "recite your records for me."

"Nnn...why?" He asked.

"Doctor's orders."

He closed his eyes and read off his statistics, and Jack's count reached one. The next thing she knew Jack had activated the vertical boost Torbjorn had completed not a month ago, and the vehicle shot upwards to catch their falling comrade. The field that activated with the boost did a lot to take away from the impact of stopping, but it still felt and sounded painful when Ana landed, one Talon agent's hand gripping her shoulder.

"Take a nap, first one is on me!" She told the Talon operative, sticking a dart in his arm, which instantly made him let go and spin out of the vehicle's range.

"Did you get it?" Jack asked immediately.

"Of course," Ana replied, snatching the pistol from his belt and leaning out to give them some relief.

"Hold on, this is going to get worse before it gets better!" He told them, aiming the Flier into a dive bomb as they gained momentum in the fall. Despite the deathly circumstances, everything seemed like it would end well enough, but as they entered the last seconds of their hasty descent, the terrible cracking and shuddering sounds were heard.

The Cube was coming down, on top of them.

The pyramidic pieces that comprised it tumbled together in the direction they were racing, but as the first of them hit the sand, the other three broke apart. The other pieces were flying overhead and the explosions continued to burst all around as well. Close to death they may have been, but if you asked her, Mercy might have said they were closer to hell.

They leveled out just above the speedway, the back smashing into the ground with another great plume of smoke and the sound of straining metal. With the damages they'd received, the Talon operatives were closing in, and Ana's defenses weren't enough.

The safest road was not the one further away from the collapsing super building, but the one under it.

"If it comes down to it, I want all three of you to bail out. Keep the objective close, Ana, and watch your backs."

"We won't abandon you," Mercy defied.

"You will if I give the order."

There seemed to be some regret in that, but it was not the time or place to start digging. Another blast ruptured on their flank and the back of the Flier began to tear away with a horrible screeching wail. Just as the Talon vehicles began to open fire, Jack steered them under a large piece of the falling structure.

"This is Carrier 113-B to Strike Commander Morrison, we are in view of the objective site, it's falling apart, over."

"We're aware," Ana answered now that her sight of the enemy had been temporarily cut. Jack was swerving between chunks of debris and smoldering ruin, any wrong turn could end all their lives.

"Then we'll be in extraction range at the objective perimeter."

"Negative, hover over the ruins, towards the end of the wreckage, we'll find you."

"Affirmative Captain Amari, Carrier 113-B out."

Suddenly they shot out into sunlight again, the carrier was far in the distance, almost above the final pyramid segment, which was collapsing into pieces several kilometers away. Still no sign of the Talon agents...yet.

"Doctor…" The young man spoke after a long silence between them, "Am I going to die today?"

"Heroes never die," She told him, as she had found herself saying to many young men and women over her career with Overwatch. Some of the time it was a nice way to mask the grim truth of the situation, but it was always an honor. In this case, it was too close to say if it was one of both.

"Heh...so that's a yes?"

"Keep silent and pray. Pray for yourself and for the rest of us, and an end to this bloody conflict," She told him.

They were back under debris, she realized, within the fiery corpse of the once proud symbol of human achievement, which had been repurposed as a source of Talon intelligence movement and gathering in the previous year. Despite the intensity of it, Jack was doing remarkably well, his reflexes second to none.

Soon they came upon a wall of solid debris, and a sharp turn to the left was made, and as they raced towards the edge of the marred roadway, the Talon operatives regained sight of them. They were hit a third time as Jack pushed them beyond the solid wall and Ana blasted the wreckage above it so that it became partially blocked off, destroying the vehicle closest to them.

Now, however, the back of the Flier was afire, and Mercy moved the young soldier closer to the front. Ana moved towards the back to help extinguish, or at least contain, the flames. It was a partial success, and with some tinkering they established a minimal safety barrier, making a spray which would deter the flames if they got too close.

But their problems were far from over, for as they felt the sun upon them again, Talon re-emerged, this time in the air. The enemy aircraft wasted no time in activating targeting missiles.

"Evacuation time, now!" Jack commanded.

The Overwatch carrier was also being engaged, but seemed to have seen them as it soared downwards and extended lines as it fought back against the Talon pair above it.

As the first of the missiles fired, Jack cursed again and did a sharp u-turn, evading the missile blast by inches. As they skidded towards the edge of the roadways, where the sinkholes were deep and wide, he repeated his orders.

"Help me get him up," Ana told Mercy, hoisting the injured man onto her shoulder and shooting a magnetic grapnel up to reach the line from the carrier; they snapped together with a firm clank, and the Captain and the Corporeal were lifted to safety.

As Mercy prepared her own line another missile struck, and the Flier rolled, each time it hit the road she hurt more and more. First a gash on the forehead, then a cut along the back of her leg, then a crushing force against her chest, and so it went until they spilled off the road entirely. Thankfully, they landed on a sinking wall or ceiling that was slowly being buried in the desert tombs of Cairo's outskirts.

How long they lay on the massive, charred segment she couldn't say, but when she crawled out from under the overturned Flier, Jack was kneeling against it, coughing and bleeding from a wound across his face. Her leg must've been broken, but she made her way to him quick enough. This one was going to be a scar, no doubt about it. A mere inch in either direction and he would've lost an eye.

"Don't speak, save your breath and energy," She advised amid forced breaths of her own.

The tired look he gave her said he was in no mood to talk just yet. The Caduceus staff unfolded from her side and beamed him in golden rays of autonomous, instant healing. Neither spoke, as the gunshots and weapons fire above them was forgotten, and they sank into the unknown dark.

After a moment, he was able to stand, and she turned the beams on herself, feeling the cuts close, the bruises heal, and the straining fatigue leave her, and it was glorious. They would both need some time in their beds to let time do what no medicine could, but they would be able to get out of another scrap if needed.

That said...they were still sinking, still falling so slowly but so deeply, that Mercy could no longer see the sun shining above them, only the only the slow decrescendo of their platform. He attempted to contact their allies over the comm, but it was down, either by lack of close range or abuse suffered in the crash.

She sat with her bad leg to the side, holding it tightly and gently massaging it as she gazed into the fine lined scar across his face, darkened by dried blood. He didn't say anything, only sat with his dusty and bloodied blonde hair over his eyes.

"What now?" She asked him, feeling the cold of the endless sand choking the light and life from them by the second.

"We wait, and hope someone finds us."

"I was afraid that was our only option."

"We can talk…"

All things considered, that was actually a fine idea.

"Yes. Let's."

"Tell me something…when did I stop being Jack Morrison?"

"What?"

"I'm different. This world, this war...it's changed me. I used to be the 'moral center', the voice of hope and reason and conscience...and now I'm just some damn hardass with a mission to keep me busy."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just look at me. The things I've done the past couple years, the people I've killed….the secrets I've kept, or thrown to Reyes. The way I push everyone so hard, like I have a right to. There's being a Commander, and then there's being what I am…"

"You do it for good, and for peace. You're a hero, that's what heroes do. They do terrible things for the sake of a world that doesn't need them."

He looked to her solemnly, "I don't think I like being a hero very much."

"It's a hard job."

"It is."

"Well, I think that just by feeling this way, you've proven you're still our moral center. Our symbol is one of hope, and we all hope for the same thing. You're no different than any of us, you just have to worry about keeping us all in line and on point."

"But even for heroes...there has to be a life beyond the job. It never ends, I can accept that, but why can't I let it go...just for a little while?"

"Well…"

"And what happens if it all falls apart? What if it does end, and I can't let it go? What happens to me if I can't be Strike Commander or Jack Morrison?"

There was a true horror in his eyes, like he was predicting his own death. He grabbed her hand, and she returned the favor by grasping his. She began to speak more than once, but was shushed into quiet by the lack of any real answers for his questions.

"You say heroes never die…" He said, voice just barely cracking, "but that's just being a good doctor. I see the reports, of all the heroes who die in Overwatch. What happens to me when I die, as a hero, and a person?"

"Jack...I…"

She hugged him tightly, and he returned it hesitantly, and there they sat, alone, in the dark, as the world they knew and loved and fought for disappeared above them. At the end of it all, she had no answers for these questions. She was qualified to be a psychiatrist if needed, but she wasn't a soul searcher; she didn't have answers only Jack Morrison could see. So she did what she knew how to do: She comforted him, and promised him it would be okay in the end, even though they were in the end, and everything had fallen apart.

"Can I ask you something, Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I'm a hero?"

The piece of wreckage they'd found refuge on began on to sink faster, and they were fighting gravity twice as hard as before to stay upright.

"I hope to hell not...I wouldn't wish being a hero on anyone. Not Reyes, not Amari, not Wilhem, not you….good God, not you."

"What am I?"

"You're an angel. First and foremost."

"That's a lot to live up to."

The wreckage was racing in a downwards spiral now, and they were gripping onto it and each other tightly just to stay out of the giant pit of death called the desert.

"Yeah...I guess that's why I knew I could ask you. Being a hero can't be any easier than being an angel."

"Maybe we'll die today...and maybe we'll be called heroes, or angels, or anything else….but maybe we can call each other something else entirely….."

"I...I'd like that…."

The debris around them was falling off the sand and spiraling straight to the bottom of the pit, sucked into sure death, and they would soon follow it. It was truly the end of all things, like neither had known before.

"I love you."

Mercy wasn't sure if she said that, or he did. Maybe they both did. It was uttered so quietly that it may not have happened at all, but she cried as she mulled over those words. It was good to know that even if you were an angel, or a hero, at the end of your life, you could find refuge away from that in being a lover. She'd never wanted to be an angel...even as a girl...she wanted love.

 **"GOTCHA!"**

Winston's great ape arms reached out from above the hellish pit they were using to enter eternity, and his large hands grabbed them from the overturning wreckage, and he pulled them up from death and from questions about heroism and angelics, and from love.

"Up! Pull us up!" Winston called through the comms, and the wire attached to his leg reeled them in with shocking speed.

Before she knew it, they were practically out of the world's largest sinkhole, and in Overwatch Carrier 113-B. Her legs turned to jelly as she touched the firmness of the aircraft, and she fell to her knees, crying all over again.

Jack Morrison kept one hand on the railing, the other over his face.

"We made it!" Winston cheered with a smile, "Heh heh, what a relief!"

"Nice to have you back, sir," Ana saluted.

"...Good to be back," He mirrored.

The rest of the trip was quiet, and altogether very quick, she must've dozed off three or four times. Almost in the blinking of an eye, she was sitting in her chair, at her desk, safe inside her office once more. It felt good.

There was only one patient that evening, Strike Commander Morrison.

She cleaned out his new scar and gave him a couple of pills for the aftermath of their adventure. He took them then and there, and found a seat across from her desk as the moon glimmered through the windows.

"Needless to say, Reyes and his men are going to be able to make some real progress in the campaign thanks to our efforts today."

"That's good."

"Maybe. We'll see."

They shared the sentiment of yearning for sleep, and stood at the same time; there was only one order of business now. Would they be sleeping together for the first time, or alone as always?

He leaned in at once, and she followed quickly, and their kiss was short, but good, and full of everything they said and felt and wanted to say that afternoon. And then Jack Morrison smiled faintly, and headed towards the door, and Mercy smiled after him, and walked to the back room of her office, to find her cot as empty as she'd left it the night before.

As her head hit the pillow, the tears started, and she wondered if Jack Morrison would be crying himself to sleep tonight. Life was back to normal, snatched right out of death's maw in the blink of an eye. She missed what that had granted her, and now worried that what he had confessed to her might be a possibility again, without her there to save him from being the hero he was. One day, she would save Jack Morrison, before he died, literally or figuratively. One day.


End file.
